Long Parasite Poems
Long Parasite Poems. Below are the most popular long Parasite by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Parasite poems by poem length and keyword.
Wicked Love
And Clean Desire
Cruel and dirty desires, blackened love, broken life
You aren’t my life, I am a skilled guy, unclean our love
Please, shut me, up and call your gangsters, clear my life
Clean up my life, it’s death, a pool of blood of your life
You swim and swim in my life, you are an ill will of life
But not from the Life. And not from mine. You are a parasite mind
Our love is hellish, but it could have been angelic bright
Our wicked life is yours, I want another one, and that’s fine
Will be pure, if she is poor, then it is not a problem; clean desire
Wicked love, wicked love is not a future, not the Life
You created this horrible vortex in my life. Get it, enjoy your life
I chose Clean Desire, pure life, she will clean off your dust from my life
Life Black and White
Life closed lost color twinkling stars
Interstate paint scrape broken clustered cars
Four men painted on a bright canvas
Eternally voided life in empty blackness
Remembering everything on turned bright light
Discolored eye right hooked bar fight
Pass the wedding dress this ones just right
Cloak and Dagger clandestine midnight
Hot fire torched tipped flame ignite
Swimming microscoped magnified parasite
Rapped Holy Head freedom fighter Shi'ite
Dark hooded beheaded killer of spite
Two most commonly bought color cars
One turned to dust the other started to rust
Water is a must thirsty men eye with lust
Life closed lost color twinkling stars
There is a parasite made of pure gravity
lodged behind my breastbone.
The room dissolves around it;
the world turns to cold, uninteresting ash.
Nothing exists except the itch under my ribs -
the sickening, urgent demand to align the dark inside my head
with something I cannot reach.
I am pinned flat.
Sweat drips down my neck while my teeth click together,
a quiet, violent vibration in a completely motionless room.
My skin has been peeled back
and the exposed fat and muscle are boiling in open air.
My organs are being crowded out by a single, agonizing form.
It twitches. It drags its rusty edges across my lungs.
I am choking on the air I haven't breathed for hours.
This is the fever of fixation:
a quiet execution where the blade moves a millimeter at a time.
I lie here, a heap of dry, useless clay,
watching the ceiling fan slice the darkness into strips.
My mind is a meat grinder turning on empty air,
screaming for the precise,
elusive click that will let me draw a breath again.
It moves inside me, writhing, resetting my bones incorrectly.
It burns. It tears the wet lining of my stomach.
I cannot move my hand. I cannot turn my head.
I am forced to watch myself rot,
trapped inside the convulsing, invisible machinery of my own skull -
shaking, weeping without tears,
waiting for the agonizing pressure to snap into place
and finally let me go...
Sometimes I feel them counting me
with their eyes,
not looking, but tallying,
like I am something that can be priced.
Their stares peel,
not gently, not kindly,
but like hands that don’t ask,
like ownership already decided.
I tell them to get off of me
And when they don’t
I stand there the same way I stand here,
learning the weight of being seen
and still unseen,
naked, not in body,
but in permission.
To them I am reduced,
an animal with conditions:
“prove you belong,
prove you are worthy,
prove you are more than labor.”
Why can’t I just prove I’m human and go home?
Let me go one time and then capture me,
I’m just livestock meant to be slaughtered.
I turned eighteen,
and nothing changed,
except the expectations
grew teeth,
gnawing at me to convince me of my hunger---
But I don’t wish to reach the stars
If I can’t ever touch them.
No one warns you
how exposure feels,
how it echoes,
how it lingers,
how it teaches your skin to remember
as it clings to every inch of you,
and crawls inside every crevice.
A cave diver that wishes to be a parasite.
They notice everything:
the thin, quiet history on my left wrist,
the absence on the right,
as if symmetry could mean healing,
as if clean skin means clean past.
And still,
why must I be opened like a question?
Why must my body answer
what my voice has already said?
Why must I be unfolded, inspected,
decided?
Decided.
Decided
if I am worthy of what I have made,
of what my family has made,
of what we have built with hands
that never stopped moving.
I am not your specimen,
not your threshold,
not your proof.
I am a working woman,
not something to be worn,
not something to be weighed,
but something that endures,
even when watched.
I remember moments when his expressions of affection left me speechless. What insights have your memories offered me? I found myself quickly captivated by a charming scammer.
As the night came to an end, I urged him, "Let me heal." Someone wisely pointed out, "You are neither his therapist nor his mother." I should encourage his growth, but I won't take on his emotional burdens or fix his problems for him. After all, how many times can a fool be deceived? Lonely nights can wear away at one's soul.
I suggested he find a job, but he continues to insist that he is a celebrity.
Mr. Kingpalacekp, while anyone can assign themselves a title, true value comes from standing firmly behind it. Embrace your strength and courage.
It's halfway through this year, and next month will mark a month since I encountered the parasite.
It's time to put an end to this chaos before I find myself in a therapist's office.
Life has no balance.
Let's play a game, shall we?
It's a fun little number I like to call
"Do I miss you because I love you,
or because you're my brain's scar tissue?"
Let's review the facts, shall we?
You're a spoiled NEET who took pleasure from my pain
From making me bend over backwards
And watching my free will vanish
Like a parasite, you latch on to everyone
Begging for gifts and food like a child
Passive-aggressively plotting when you don't get your way
And everyone gives in to get you to shut up
By all accounts, you're a horrible person
So tell me why, tell me why
Why do you still haunt my dreams at night?
Why does the thought of losing you still hurt me so?
You're like heroin
Because man, doing lines of you through the night
Was the greatest high when the trip was fine
And the comedown was so fierce
So here I lay, sweating yet freezing
Dope sick and hungover after the greatest afterparty
Craving another hit to feel the ceiling again
Gently gnawing on my twelfth step chip
But you weren't always that way, you know
The love we shared was once pure
And each day was a blessing that I'd give so much to return to
And I think that's the you that I miss
But hey, that person died two years ago
You wore her skin so well that I didn't realize
That I still had a body to bury
Before you skinned it and wore it
More often than not, it's the pure memories I recall
When I'm clutching my phone with my thumb above the send key
And another withdrawal pang hits my temple
And jolts my thumb to the clear key
So where are you now?
I can't imagine I'm in a much better place right now
Eating my fourth cup of cup noodles tonight
Poring over a broth stained essay
It's comforting to share a pitiful existence with you
Because in a weird way, I feel more connected with you than ever
Sharing a loving, tender kiss across time and space
As we both scoop the last shrimp from the bottom of the cup
But each cup leads me closer to my dream
As you stagnate at home
Self-actualization is a difficult concept to measure
But your NEET dream dies with the last of your savings
The sun rises and the glare from the screen hits my eyes
Another frosty December morning
Through the sight of the rising sun and the scars you left behind
For now at least, you and I are forever intertwined.
lost in the shades of raindrops on glass
The shadow cast by darkness
Let none feel pain, even me
Does_______ insert deity name here think they exist
Layering silly balls just as a muse
What age am i
You still believe in time
Is there more nothing than everything else
Meet me in my dreams
This state of mind
needs named
Wanting to see myself cry
Structure of phrases
words elope with pages
and letters cradle the warmth
Sin always has an in
Weird how sin doesn't have an opposite
originality meet the origin
of the species new
cant see the people for the sky
A parasite allergic to its host
The dying ghost
has just walked passed
no questions asked
An Insignificant Insect
An insignificant insect
Living on an insignificant planet
Located in an insignificant galaxy
Why does man think he is so important?
He is a parasite tolerated by the universe
To be swept away whenever it desires
Man kills the planet he is on
Pollution and war leaves deep scars
Ruining what was created shortly after the big bang
Wanting to spread to other planets and stars
To rape them and watch them die as the Earth is
Man will be swept away on uninhabitable worlds
Man thinks he will leave an impact
There will be no impact
No monuments to what man has done
No trace that he ever existed
An insect that never mattered
On an insignificant planet in an insignificant galaxy
Man never existed
Shadows detach at dusk to sneak silently away
to roost together like bats in rookeries,
hanging upside down, wrapped in black mantles, gossiping.
Each shadow reborn each morn seeks out its host
like a parasite seeking sustenance and succour,
for a shadow detached is inanimate and non-existent.
Shadows need light and objects to cast silhouettes
to give shadows life, substance and vitality.
Only things of this world cast shadows,
So things and beings that cast no shadow are spooky.
Shadows follow you around mirroring every move you make.
In endless shadow-puppet performances
they often give you away when you sneak up,
and showcase your slinks and skulks when you slither away.
The brighter the light the stronger the shadow.
Multiple lights cast multiple shadows.
Shadows are too dark and foreboding of death and evil to be friends
For shadows are cast by the living, the dead and lifeless things.
But only the living animate shadows into life.
Let me begin by saying that I'm so very sorry
but if I don't kill you, you're going to kill me.
I wish there was another way but no other solution will come to me.
If I Don't Kill You, You're Going To Kill Me.
Through out great and joyous times as well as those of misery
you were never very far. You were always there for me.
Through out my years of tears and fears you were always there to comfort me,
but what else can I do? If I don't kill you you're definitely going to kill me.
If it helps I'll be merciful and kill you very quickly
despite the fact that you would act much less merciful than me.
I've known others who have grown close to you as you have grown close to me.
Many of them died slow lingering deaths. Many pleaded, "Pull the plug on me."
I haven't any reason to not believe that you will kill me any differently,
so you see there's only one thing left for me to do.
I must kill you before you get to kill me.
I've always seen you as a loyal friend until the reality occurred to me
that you're not my friend at all.
You're a parasite, and your host among many others also happens to be me.
You thrive and survive by destroying those who choose to welcome you into their lives.
Everyone you grow close to always gets short changed and tragically, most painfully dies.
You've taken loved ones from me and from others as well.
You've destroyed loving families making their lives a living hell.
You deceived all of us into believing that you could be a helpful friend.
You've taken so much from so many. This madness must now end.
I welcomed you into my life and that's something that I'll always regret.
WITH THESE WORDS I NOW KILL YOU:
"I've Smoked My Last Cigarette"
In Loving Memory
Of They You Took From Me.
First you smoke, then you choke
and then in time you will most probably have a stroke and
then after a few amputations,
and some major operations,
you will finally,
most painfully,
croak.
Need anymore reasons to stop? Here's some:
Go here to continue for You Don't Always Die From Tobacco
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuh2w2sFRMI